


Quake in Fear Above Me

by succculent_horror (Voyaelm)



Series: Self Indulgence [1]
Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Mild Gore, Murder, Other, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 05:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16298726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voyaelm/pseuds/succculent_horror
Summary: Strade has and will always want what's best for Ren. He just has some... interesting ways of showing that.





	Quake in Fear Above Me

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this on and off for a little over a month, but now it's done so enjoy.

“Ren!” Strade calls out from his spot against the kitchen counter, fingers playing around with a few papers. He hears a pitter-patter of claws on hardwood and looks up to see a flash of red hair and pale skin walk out from the doorway.

“Yeah?” Ren asks, nonchalantly, stepping further into the kitchen. He leans against the island, eyes locked on Strade across the room. “You need something?”

“Sorta.” Strade shugs, pushing the papers away and turning to Ren. “I've got a little surprise for ya.”

“A… surprise?”

“Mmhmm!” Strade hums his reply happily.

“That sounds extremely ominous. And I only assume the worst with you.” Strade laughs.

“Just follow me.” His usual joking tone turns a little more serious. Nothing overly foreboding, just enough so Ren knows he's not joking.

Ren does as he's told, following Strade out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and to the stairs. They stop in front of the door to the basement and Ren's expression drops. “Strade?”

Strade doesn't answer him, opening the door and walking down. Ren throws a hand out to catch it and follows him down. A smile covers Strade's face. He's in for a treat.

Ren’s only a few stairs behind Strade. His neutral expression turns to one of horror when he reaches the bottom. Strade has to tug at Ren's arm, pulling him fully into the basement.

A man, no older than 30, sits against the pole with fully bound arms and legs. He's even wearing a gag. His eyes move to the both of them, then immediately dart away.

“What?” Ren asks quietly, taking a step away from Strade's victim and towards the stairs.

“Oh, no. None of that. This is your surprise.” He smiles like this was the best gift he's ever given.

It takes Ren a minute to realize what exactly is going on here, and when he does, oh boy. Strade still vocalizes Ren's thought, confirming it brutally. “Yup. You get to end his life. Good for-!”

“Absolutely not.” Ren swiftly cuts off, arms crossed over his chest. He looks up at Strade defiantly.

“Ren.”

“Nope, not doing it.”

Strade deadpans. “That wasn’t a request.”

Ren broods quietly, muttering to Strade under his breath.“You said...you wouldn't…” He sounds hurt. Betrayed. “You _promised_!” He growls angrily.

“Do promises really mean anything to someone like me?” Strade replies, his aloof attitude only serving to piss Ren off more.  “And I never promised this.”

Ren opens his mouth, probably to yell, but closes it. Strade knows he's right. He's never said that he wouldn't have to hurt people. Ren tries again. “You said I wouldn't have to make choices like this.” His voice is quieter this time. “Big choices. _Life-changing_ ones.” His tail falls against the backs of his thighs. “I never wanted to hurt anyone.” He's pitiful. He's about to cry. It's cute.

“I know, I know; life is cruel, little one.” Strade lifts his palm to run it against Ren's cheek, trying to calm him down. Ren leans into the gentle touch. Looks up, hope in his eyes. “So, sometimes, we need to be cruel back. Understand?”

He wraps his arm around Ren's shoulders sympathetically, giving him a sharp cover to the very real world around him. It's a double edged sword, and Ren knows that. He chooses to move closer regardless, craving safety. Craving a way out.

“To make this a little easier, you can pick whichever weapon you'd like.” Strade motions around the room. To the power tools, to the normal tools, to the drawer full of knives. “Make it quick, or drag it out. As long as he doesn't make it out of here alive, I couldn't care less.”

Ren closes his eyes and shakes his head violently. “Please. Please Strade, don't make me. I'll do anything else, just don't make me kill him.” His protests are just begging. Normally, Strade would be into that, but now it's just annoying him.

“You keep forgetting the power of anything, fox. I guarantee you _won't_  like your ‘anything else’.” He threatens, making Ren whine and shiver in his spot under Strade’s arm.

His large orange eyes scan the room, looking everywhere but the tied up man. It takes a bit more coaxing on Strade's part to get him to look around for a weapon.

He lingers by some of the more brutal ones: the axe, the hammers, even the table saw! But, he moves past them. Strade moves his eyes from Ren to the man sitting bound and gagged a few feet away.

The gag's only here for Ren's piece of mind. Strade doesn't want this nobody hurling hurtful comments at his fox. He doesn't want Ren to feel bad about this; he doesn't take verbal reprimandation well, even from Strade.

The excess bindings are for Ren's safety. Strade’s been kicked and headbutted far too many times to count, from people who think they could get the upper hand on him. He doesn't want that for Ren.

His first time should really be more special than this, not so controlled, but Strade's only human. He'd love to give Ren the opportunity to have a first like his own. But, that's impossible now.

Ren walks back into view soon enough, holding his hands behind his back. One of Strade's eyebrows tilts up, smile widening on his lips.

“Find something?” He shakes his head and Strade's smiles falls from his face. Ren isn't affected by the mood change.

“I want to use your knife.” Strade balks, thoroughly surprised by Ren plainly spoken sentence. He doesn't appear to be shy asking; he even holds out his hand for it.

“Why?” He tries to keep his composure, to not look shocked, but it doesn't come off as calm. He doesn't sound worried, no. He's just stunned.

“I know it best. I- I don't want it to hurt him more than necessary.” Ren reaches back for his arm, rubbing it up and down. “I can use something else, I just-” He's backtracking.

“No no no, here.” Strade grips the hilt of his favorite knife and pulls it free from its holster. He flips it in his hand, holding the blade, so Ren can take the handle. “I'm just a little surprised. I thought you'd want to stay far, far away from my weapon of choice. I never expected you to ask.”

Ren shrugs, taking the knife with a shy smile. 

Seeing Ren with a hunting knife in his hand is a bit more odd than Strade expected. Ren looks it over, flipping the weapon over and running a cautious thumb down the sharp blade. He looks up at Strade with the knife down to his side.

Strade smiles brightly, head tilting and eyes closing. He's letting his guard down purposely. He knows Ren wouldn't dare attack him. And, if he _does_  try, he'll get rid of this guy and shove Ren in his place.

But he doesn't.

“Now,” Strade motions over Ren's shoulder, “You have something to do.”

Ren looks back and his somewhat calm façade drops. He's been reminded why he's down here. Strade grins again. “Yeah,” Ren mutters sadly.

He makes his way over to the man, fingers tight against the solid hilt. He’s off to the side, trying to stay as far away from him as possible. He looks between the other two in the room, eyes lingering on Strade.

Strade gives him an encouraging nod, which makes Ren move closer. “It's nothing personal,” Ren whispers to the man. “At least it won't be him.” The words do nothing to calm down his shaking and crying.

The knife sits awkwardly in Ren's hands, both of them gripping the hilt for dear life. Wow, he is nervous. Strade’s properly taught him to use a knife and he's holding it like a damn baseball bat.

Strade lays his hands on the counter, ready to push off to fix the hold, but thinks better. Doing that may tear Ren out of the headspace he's creating for himself.

Ren almost drops it when his fingers correct themselves on the hilt relatively quickly after he looks down.

Strade makes no noise of his surprise when Ren takes a handful of his hair and leans his head back. Oh, the neck. Not the least painful, but probably the easiest for a beginner. Also, the most common.

“Your eyes…” Ren whispers to the man, entranced by the sheer terror that fills them.

“Would you like me to blindfold him?”

“I- no. He should see what's going to happen to him.” Strade chuckles deeply, fascinated. “Not like that!” Ren interjects. “Just. I don't want him to worry.”

“You're so caring!” He addresses the man. “Hear that? He doesn't want you to worry; isn't that precious?” Ren turns around and, nearly seething, places the knife against his neck.

“Be quiet!” He turns back. Ren screws his eyes shut. “i’m so sorry,” whispers Ren.

Strade smiles with wide eyes when Ren quickly rips the knife across the immobilized man’s throat. The man twitches violently once, twice, then limply falls against the pole, blood spurting out in accord with his dying pulse.  

Ren jumps away when the tension under the blade disappears, knife clattering in the cement floor. Strade can see that his eyes are open and he's just staring blankly at Strade. He's panting like he just ran a marathon.

Strade waits a short while before coming away from the counter to walk over to the man. Ren’s eyes are intently following him, his brain not having caught up with his body. Strade roughly shoves two of his fingers into the bloody gash to press against the artery. More blood spills out from where he's pressing and he stills. No pulse.

Strade hears it before he sees it. It starts off with a soft, almost silent, sniffle and morphs into a full-on sob. He turns his head to look at Ren. His hands are up by his eyes, futilely scrubbing away heavy tears, and his tail is coiled tightly around his middle. He's collapsed to the ground, feet tucked under his knees. He's shaking.

Strade falls beside Ren and wraps an arm around him, shushing him patiently. “I'm so proud of you, Ren. You did so well.” Ren twists himself into Strade’s arms, clutching to his green jacket. Strade can quickly feel wetness soak through.

He reaches out, just beside Ren's quivering knee, to grab his knife and lay it back in the holster, then cards his hands through Ren's fur, gently pushing his ears down to lay against his scalp.

Through sobs, Ren tries to speak. “I. I di-did it.”

“Yes you did, fuchs.” Neither of them talks for a while. Ren's still crying -- it's dying down, slowly, but surely -- and Strade’s still playing with his ears. Then suddenly, Ren lashes out and pulls both of them to the floor.

It happens so quickly, too quickly for Strade to react. One minute his arms are around Ren, and the next they are pinned to the cold cement.

Strade frowns. That wasn't a very good idea for Ren to follow up on. He tugs at Ren’s grasp on his wrist and he growled menacingly, claws piercing the soft skin of his inner arms.

“Ren.” Strade says, deadpan. He's willing to accept that Ren’s being animalistic because he just killed someone, but he is _not_  alright with Ren _pinning_ him. No matter his instincts, he knows better than that.

Strade can get out of this no problem; Ren's already in a weakened state and its not like he's all that strong to begin with. It's just the premise, nothing more.

Ren seems to understand the threat in Strade's voice so his nails begin to detach from Strade's skin. He tucks his face into the gap between Strade’s neck and shoulder in shame. He doesn't apologize yet -- he's still sobbing. However, soon, Strade hears a faint ‘sorry’ vibrate against his skin and he hums in response. He'll forgive Ren for that.

Strade lays a free hand on Ren's hip, gently trailing it up his back, while his other reaches into his pocket -- which is difficult with him being pinned the way he is -- for the small remote to Ren’s collar.  He brings it up within eyesight and flicks one of the small buttons near the bottom.

A loud noise cuts off Ren's frantic crying and makes his ears and tail stand straight up, bristling in shock. Strade drops the remote to the floor, bringing his hands to the collar. Taking both ends in hand, he tugs the electronic clasp open.

Ren moves up to place his weight on either side of Strade's head, which also removes him from the collar. Strade lifts the heavy metal off his chest and tosses it on the ground.

Strade, now free of Ren's weight, sits up with one hand behind him, holding him upright.

Ren moves back to sit down onto Strade's lap, claws gently running over freshly exposed skin. Like he doesn't know what do now that it's gone. There is a heavy ring of bruises, all in various stages of healing, on the front of his neck.

He looks beautiful.

“You. _Strade_ ,” Ren whines, knees tightening against his hips and tail lashing across his thighs. Strade reaches up and pulls Ren closer to his chest.

“Hush now, fuchs.” Strade's hands curl and pet around Ren’s nape. The skin and hair is so soft there. Ren relaxes; only by a little, not by a lot. His clawed fingers curl into the fabric on Strade's shoulders. “Take a little while to calm yourself. It's stressful for you.”

Ren nods shallowly into Strade's chest, letting his sobs turn to quiet cries.

“You're free, Ren.” He presses his face into Ren's hair, barely laying a kiss there. “Even though I’ll never let you leave me.”

**Author's Note:**

> If ya liked it, let me know in the comments. I also do requests if you got any ideas for me ;)


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